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Spring = Flowers

Flowers and pots and dirt, Oh My! And it’s off to the plant place we go. And about time, I say. So now with the new photo flash drive I’ll be able to easily and quickly move and backup photos on my Android. At least we’ll give it a bloody go, yes?

But of course this brings memories along with it. Memories with flowers and places and people. As indeed the trail of flower roots through out the years.

From Manitou—a touch, just a plant sampling from the upper courtyard:

IMG_2430

Manitou Courtyard

My return should bring a flowering of blooms—which shall be published, assuming the new browser and flash drive and computer all cooperate!

 

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Alex The Plant Thinks

Plants
I just listened to a program on NPR about plants. Apparently plants think. This is arrived at by observing plants learning; that is, new behavior being repeatable. Not just that, but plants defending themselves when it seems they will be harmed, based on a new negative action they were originally receptive to. In other words, Alexander the plant allows a pin prick to be delivered by a pin. The next time a pin appears, Alex closes his leaves. This is in the plant type that Alex is, one capable of closing its leaves.

This is only a slight exaggeration, I’m sure there are many more limitations other than capability. Or at least I would think so.

But this leads to further observations within the thinking-plant continuum.  For instance, this does not mean that plants are conscious. Though they may well be and articles have been written on such. The point is—thinking alone is not proof of consciousness. Alex the plant may well think, but he may not be aware he is thinking. Another step is involved with this—Alex may be aware he is thinking, but not be aware that he is Alex. Or Alex doing the thinking. Awareness of agency, awareness of self.

The mind jumps to humorous applications of this knowledge, or at least mine does. There are singing ants. Just because Joey the ant can sing, it does not necessarily mean he can learn new notes. Even if Joey can learn new notes, I doubt very seriously that Joey will be writing any new songs. At least he won’t be writing and printing the “New Songbook For Ants” anytime soon.

A photo of Alex the plant in bloom

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When Blue

In my heart there is a blue bird that 
He wants to go

Marc Chagall, the oiseau Bleu (Partial) 1952, private collection Post by Federica De Santi

Marc Chagall, the oiseau Bleu (Partial) 1952, private collection
Post by Federica De Santi

But with him I’m inflexible,
I tell him: stay inside, I don’t
Nobody sees you.

In my heart there is a blue bird that
He wants to
But the verse whiskey and inhale
The smoke of cigarettes
And the whores and bartenders
And the grocer’s clerks
They don’t know that there is him.

In my heart there is a blue bird that
He wants to
But I am inflexible with him,
I tell him: stay down, you want to
Freaking out?
Do you want to air all my work?
Do you want to blow my books sales in Europe?

In my heart there is a blue bird that
He wants to
Only at night sometime
When everyone sleeps.
I tell him: I know you’re there,
Don’t be sad
Then I put it back in place

But he in there a little sings,
I didn’t really make him die,
We sleep together like
With our secret pact
And she’s so cute to cry
A man, but I don’t cry,
And you?

~Charles Bukowski

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Other Worlds

Ravenous Butterflies

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power.
Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget… another world is not only possible, she is on her way.
On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”
Arundhati Roy

Zeigfeld Girl, Marjorie Leet.

ravenous

 

 

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Beyond Dystopia—unedited flurry

I wonder how we got here. I’m not talking about the primordial ooze out of which our consciousness was spit to eventually become the seed in some body, random, chosen, placed (choose your religious belief) and then awakened in the brain or body or both—slowly for the most part because who could stand the sudden shock of it all at once—into this something we call our self.

Truth Theory

According to some experts in the field, we are just a decade away from this type of technology reaching the public.

Scientists Say Babies Will Grow In Artificial Wombs Within Ten Years
I stuck my head out to find this. This. This is where we are today. In addition there was an article about human brain cells being placed in pig embryos. It left me with a momentary shudder.  I controlled  my reaction, thinking this could not possibly be used for any true purpose. In what fashion? Why? Why on earth would we have this need? I still don’t know, but I’m not sure that it matters.
My conclusion: We deserve to be destroyed by the planet.